


From London With Love

by cametobuyplums



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, BondBoy!Bucky, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Femdom, Ice Play, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Minor Violence, Older Woman/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Panty Kink, Praise Kink, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 14:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18896689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cametobuyplums/pseuds/cametobuyplums
Summary: In which MI5 sends you on a mission to New York and SHIELD assigns you a one James “Bucky” Barnes.





	From London With Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, loves. This originally began as a drabble that I posted on Tumblr but I fell in love with the idea so much I simply had to turn it into a longer story. I hope you enjoy reading!

New York. A home away from home. London has beauty, yes. But New York has a certain edge to it. Magic of its own kind. You can never stay away too long. Especially not when MI5 seem to favour you for international missions. Peggy Carter’s insistence, of course.

A sweet smile at customs. A ruse of innocence that never fails you. A passport that’s clean. Legally falsified documents. And still, your heart races everytime. Only a simple holdall to retrieve. Your black boots click on the perfectly polished floor. A scan of the crowd, trying to discern the SHIELD agent assigned to you. You almost stop in your tracks when you spot your name on a piece of white card.

A handsome young man. Dark hair neatly trimmed and you wonder what it looks like mussed. Bright blue eyes that speak of youth and intelligence. Perfectly pink lips set amongst a cleanly shaven jaw. Sharp, chiselled, angled. A cleanly put together combination of a white shirt and black tie. His suit hangs a little loose. It’s a little unrefined, unseasoned, and yet, there’s a certain charm about him you can’t deny. His lips curve into a smile.

“Lovely weather we’re having.”

His first words roll off his tongue smoothly. Tilted with a Brooklyn accent. You detect a faint hint of nerves. Only because you’re a professional. To the untrained eye, he’s a vision of confidence. And sure enough, there are enough passing men and women that eye him with appreciation.

“Yes,” you reply just as smoothly. “But, I always carry an umbrella.”

“Ma’am,” he nods. “Please, let me carry that for you.”

In truth, you’re strong enough of a woman to not need a man for such trivial matters. There’s an air about him though. So eager to impress. So desperate to please. It’s intoxicating. Your fingers brush as he slips the holdall from your grasp and his emotions betray him, a faint pink colouring his cheeks. You say nothing of it.

“What’s your name, Agent?”

“Barnes. James Barnes, ma’am. But my friends call me Bucky. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agent One.”

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine.”

A sleek black car awaits. A Jaguar XF. You smile at that. An attempt from SHIELD to flatter you with as many British nuances as they can manage. Bucky strikes up conversation immediately. An inquiry after your flight. Captain Rogers sends his regards. He hopes your stay will be comfortable. Is there any further assistance you’ll require at the gala you’re to infiltrate tonight? A smirk, you tell him his assistance will be more than sufficient and he blinks owlishly.

“My assistance?” he echoes, unlocking the door to your hotel suite. “Oh, I’m not attending, ma’am. I don’t have that kind of clearance.”

“Nonsense,” you say airily, running a finger down the length of his chest. “I want you there.”

“But- “

“You’re here to assist me, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, ma’am- “

“And I want you to accompany me,” your voice a husky whisper, full of dark promises. “You’re perfect for the job.”

Redness dusts Bucky’s cheeks, only serving to make him even more devastatingly handsome. His blue eyes flicker, a glance at the path your finger trails down his chest. A slight quiver. But no argument. You offer him a smile before swivelling on your heel.

An extravagant hotel suite that drips with luxury. Floor to ceiling windows that offer a breathtaking view of Manhattan. The sky already darkening. Lights bright, they sparkle as you step out on to the terrace and dial Captain Rogers’ number.

“Agent One,” comes his voice. “Welcome back to New York.”

“You sent me an  _intern_?”

Steve’s huff is audible. You can picture him sitting behind his desk, rubbing his temples wearily. An excuse he tries to muster up but he’s always been a terrible liar. You hush him immediately, cutting his pathetic reasoning off with a compromise.

“You want him to  _what_?”

“He’s coming to the gala as my date,” you repeat in a tone that suggests it’s not up for debate. “And SHIELD had best spare some expenses because he is  _not_  coming in that suit. Who dressed him?”

“He’s a little young, but he’s promising,” admits Steve, and then his tone suddenly turns stern. “Do me a favour and don’t sleep with this one.”

“Captain Rogers, I would never.” you gasp and Steve barks with laughter.

“Yes, you would,” he argues fairly. “There’s a reason I couldn’t send any of my best agents. Rumlow, Wilson, even Romanoff.”

“Oh, yes, how is Romanoff?”

“ _Agent_   _One_.”

“I can’t make you any promises,” you reason, eyeing Barnes through the window. “You assign me such delicious prey, what do you expect?”

Steve sighs wearily.

“There’s a tuxedo in the closet by the door. Hugo BOSS.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Captain Rogers, for your cooperation.”

“Cooperation? That’s a good one.”

Triumphant, you sashay back into the suite where Bucky stands by the velvet couch. He rocks on his heels, hands in his pockets as he awaits your instructions. There’s such innocence in his eyes. Confidence in tatters because he knows you could walk all over him in your high heeled boots. And perhaps, if his behaviour is anything to go by, he’d like that very much. He grins a little giddily at the good news. Curious when you tell him you have something for him.

Black lace panties. You dangle them from the crook of your finger. Amusement fills your eyes as his widen, mouth slackening and his pink tongue darts out to run along the seam of his lips. The thick, dark lashes that frame his eyes flutter. A hand that tentatively reaches for them.

“Uh, I don’t know what to say,” he stammers, blushing a fiery shade of red. “Thank you?”

“I want you to wear them,” you say coyly, watching his mouth fall open. “There’s a tuxedo in the closet by the door. Get dressed, won’t you, Barnes? I’m going to take a shower.”

A moan catches in Bucky’s throat. Unable to tear his eyes away, he stares longingly as you strip your clothes off. They pool at your feet and it’s with unabashed seduction you pause, letting his gaze roam over you before you turn away. The most provocative sway of your hips and you glance over your shoulder in time to catch him surreptitiously adjusting the erection that strains his pants. Oh, you are going to have  _so_  much fun with this one.

* * *

 

Bucky is  _beautiful_  in his tuxedo. Perfectly tailored to him, it fits like a glove. The crisp white shirt taut over his chest. A black jacket that’s flattering to his lean build. A sharp intake of breath when you straighten his bow tie and the most devilish idea crosses your mind. One you save for later. He trembles, bottom lip tugged between his teeth when you ask him if he’s wearing the panties. A nod. That blush is almost a permanent fixture on his features now and it’s positively adorable.

Languid moments. You take your time dressing. Bucky watches on in worshipful awe as you wander around the bedroom clad in nothing but a black lace bra, black silk panties, a garter belt and sheer black stockings. He might be beautiful but so are you. It’s teasing and tantalising. His expression turns greedy when you rest a foot on the bed, tucking a small knife into your high heel. A thigh holster for your gun and you’re finally ready to slip into your dress.

“Are you armed?”

Bucky grins eagerly, reaching under his jacket. And then his face drops. Heart hammering all too loud as he pats himself down. An agonised expression etched on his face when you exhale. A small click of the chamber, you check the bullets. Eyes that carefully study every minute detail. You hold it out to him, warning him to keep his wits about him. A fervent nod, he squeaks when you pat his bum cheekily.

* * *

 

A gala that sparkles. Crystal chandeliers and champagne flutes. A harp and cello in perfect harmony. Expensively tailored suits and ostentatious ball gowns. A celebrity or two. Politicians and businessmen alike. An undeniable stench of wealth. And behind the glittering exterior lies secrets and mysteries. A plot of stolen Wakandan vibranium, weapons and black market sales. Nothing out of the ordinary, not for you. Head held high, your hand nestles in the crook of Bucky’s elbow. A certain smugness, whispers reach your ears. Gossip that Bucky is your Sugar Baby, your Toy Boy. You don’t correct them.

“Relax, handsome,” you trill, plucking a glass of champagne from a waiter. “Here, have a drink.”

“Should we really be drinking?” he murmurs, accepting a glass all the same.

“Business and pleasure are one and the same,” you counter, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Do I make you nervous, Barnes?”

“Yes,” he blurts, a faint blush he hides behind a sip of champagne. “You’re… you’re  _Agent_   _One_. You’re smart and beautiful and badass and-  _oh_.”

A kiss. Bucky gasps against your mouth. He groans at the feel of your tongue running along the seam of his lips. There’s a hunger there, as if he wants you to devour him whole. Passionate but also… meek. Happy and all too obliging to let you take control. And you do. You kiss him like you  _own_  him. Ignoring the stares you’re met with, you nip at his lower lip and draw back in time to watch his eyes drift shut with pleasure.

“Mm, I’ve been wanting to do that from the moment I met you,” you murmur, cupping his jaw. “You taste so sweet, Barnes.”

Bucky’s breathless. Eyes awash with that worshipful awe again and you’re helpless but to offer him a lingering kiss. A brush of your mouth against his ear, you delight in his shudder.

“Tonight,” you promise darkly. “I’ll make you feel so good, Barnes.”

To his credit, Bucky plays his part perfectly. Polite and courteous, he greets the other guests in an amicable fashion and makes conversation. A gentility to his touch, he’s merely a pretty little thing on your arm, there to shower you in the very best light. A sweet kiss to your cheek here and there. He dotes on you, allows you full control. A couple of glasses of champagne and his confidence soars. A little cockier, a little more flirtatious, a little bolder. And God, is it  _hot_. A heat in his eyes that begs you to  _ravish_  him. You let your hand slip, graze over his ass just firmly enough to feel the lace beneath and it reminds him  _exactly_  who is in charge.

You spot him immediately. The most minute of nuances. A firm handshake. Arrogance and chaos disguised with obnoxious jokes and hearty laughter. A South African accent. The merest hint of a tattoo peers over the collar of his shirt. He introduces himself as Ulysses Klaue. Madness glimmers in his eyes. And you’re far too good at your job to give yourself away, but Bucky, he falters. Only a little, but it’s evident to the point you excuse yourself quickly. Thankfully, the rest of the evening passes with no consequence. Tension rising only when the door to your hotel suite shuts with a curt snap.

Bucky’s red-bitten lips part. A moan that you swallow, lips caressing his in a kiss that’s consuming. Emboldened by champagne, his hands find your waist, squeezing gently enough to elicit a sigh. Heat prickles at your own skin, the scent of his cologne wafts over you. A scent that’s woody, spirited with rum and blended with cognac. It’s passionate and so distinctly  _Bucky._

A low whine resounds as you draw back. Bucky’s so breathless so soon, eyes blown wide as you cross the room and pour yourself a glass of bourbon. From your perch on an emerald chaise longue, you sip lazily. A rough kind of dominance in your gaze, and you can practically see his cock twitch in his pants.

“Strip,” you order. “Take off your clothes, Barnes.”

The air thickens, sparks flying and it’s with a lopsided grin that Bucky obeys. It’s tantalising, the way he peels his jacket off. Teasing, how he unfastens the buttons on his shirt one by one. A pink flush begins to creep across his collarbone. And God, you feel a jolt of arousal low in your core as he stands before you in just the black lace panties. Hard cock perfectly outlined. You sip more of the bourbon, tongue darting out to catch a stray drop.

It’s  _adorable_ , the blush that blankets his cheeks. A visible tremor courses through him as you stand and present him with your back. The ghost of his fingers as he unzips your dress, letting the silk puddle around your feet. You bend to retrieve the bow tie Bucky abandoned earlier, your ass grazing against his cock and he moans quietly, fingers clenching into fists. The black tie he wore earlier, strewn over the back of a chair.

“On the bed, handsome. Hands above your head.”

Bucky’s eagerness betrays his cool, collected show of seduction. Chest rising and falling with every ragged breath, he sighs deeply as your straddle him. Breath hot in the valley between your breasts as you drape yourself across him, tying his wrists together and looping one end of the tie through the wrought iron bed frame. He chuckles breathlessly, lips curved into a grin as you slide the bow tie over his eyes and sit back to admire your handiwork.

“You’re so pretty like this, Barnes,” you praise, heat pooling in your belly. “All laid out for me. You’re such a good boy.”

A kiss to the corner of his mouth. You pepper more along that sharply angled jawline. Scrape your teeth along the shell of his ear and he all but groans wantonly. You only giggle and dip your head, nipping at his neck and he’s already mewling, cock hard against your inner thigh.

“Have you ever done this before, Barnes?”

“No,” he breathes. “No, ma’am. But… I’ve wanted to. I,  _God_ , I want to with you.”

A soft murmur of “ _good_   _boy_ ” and he whines as you rise to your feet, body already chasing the warmth of yours. You promise to return, giggling wickedly as you tell him not to move. He yanks at his restraint at that, offering you a charming grin and telling you he won’t be going anywhere.

The breath is snatched from your lungs. You return to the bed room and God, you’re dizzy and heated all over. Bucky tilts his head at the sound of your high heels clicking against the hardwood floor. A satisfied hum when you straddle him once more. He’s lean, Bucky. Lithe definition and toned arms. A soft smattering of hair under his collarbone. A thatch of it in the centre of his chest. A trail of it on his navel. You relish the way his muscles quiver beneath your touch. A soft clink, and his head tilts once more.

“What is that?” he asks and you smile deviously, even if he can’t see it.

“Oh, just a little something I thought we could fun with.”

“What- “

Bucky’s words are drowned out by a high pitched squeal. He squirms as you glide a cube of ice over his warm skin. Trails of water down his neck. Wetness along his collarbone. You circle the ice over a nipple, wet with arousal as he gasps and keens, wrists struggling against the black tie that binds them. Filthy curses fall from his lips as you lap at the water collected on his chest.

“Did you enjoy that, Barnes?” you tease, sucking at his collarbone. “Are you going to be a good boy and let me do it again?”

“Yes,” he gasps, nodding his head furiously. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be a good boy.”

“So perfect,” you hum, flicking your tongue over an already blossoming bruise. “So good for me.”

Another cube of ice. One you clench between your teeth. A perfect symphony of your warm mouth and the cold ice. The fuzzy trail of hair under his navel damp. And then you drift lower, the harsh ice biting through the soft lace and he cries out as the freezing water trickles through to his cock. It’s  _addicting_. Every little reaction from Bucky only spikes your own desire. But it’s too much fun. Teasing him so. You’re not about to stop any time soon. Only when he begs you desperately do you relent.

“Please, ma’am,” he pants. “ _Please_.”

“Please, what?”

“Please touch me. I’m goin’ crazy.  _Please_?”

Your own patience begins to wear thin. You’ve been teasing him for the better part of an hour. With the ice. With your mouth. With your fingers. Everywhere but the one place he craves you. He begs you so  _beautifully_  your whole body thrums. Clit throbbing and walls clenching around nothing. A sigh, as if it’s of great effort on your part. You let your laced covered breasts brush over his bare skin as you drag your body down his.

“Fuck!”

Bucky cries out as you mouth at his cock through the lace panties. He’s painfully hard. A damp patch you run your tongue over, relishing at how he jerks his hips. He gasps so sharply you still, warning him not to come and he whimpers brokenly. His jaw clenches tight, head thrown back against the soft pillows as he wills himself to obey. A rake of your nails down his thighs, the muscles quivering and you can feel your own want spiking to a staggering height. His breath catches when you finally tug the panties down.

“Oh, Barnes,” you hum appreciatively. “You’ve got such a pretty cock. Pretty just like you.”

“Please, ma’am,” he pleads in a voice that’s gravelly with need. “I’ve been a real good boy for you. I need your mouth on my cock,  _please_.”

“You beg me so nicely, Barnes,” you coo, laving wet kisses over his thighs. “Such a pretty boy, begging me to suck his cock.”

Without so much as a warning, you flick your tongue over the wet tip. It’s flushed an angry shade of red. Begging for attention. And  _God_ , he growls so  _filthily_  your panties are soaked from the sound alone. Your hands pin his hips to the white silk sheets as you run your tongue along a vein on the underside. A tease of the ridge. You gently mouth at his balls. Bucky practically sobs you for more, a few tears streaming from beneath the bow tie. You reach up, freeing him of the makeshift blindfold.

Bucky’s blue eyes darken until they’re almost black and swimming with lust. You don’t think you’ve ever seen such a man so  _gorgeous_. A dream come true. A walking fantasy. And he’s naked and tied to your bed. He lifts his head, throwing it back when you draw his cock past your lips. Tongue swirling over the tip as you roll a knuckle just behind his balls and he  _sobs_ , sheer desperation behind his words as he cries that he can’t stand it anymore. And neither can you.

A dazed, dreamy expression clouds his handsome face. His eyes follow your silk panties as they slip down your legs and he growls, yanking harshly at the tie when he sees how  _wet_  you are. Slick coats your thighs and even though you’re wetter than you’ve ever been, there’s a pleasurable sting as you sink down his hard length. The feel of his thick cock stretching you is immeasurably  _hot_.  _Intoxicating_. Even more so when he gasps lewdly.

“You feel so good, ma’am,” he says shakily. “Oh God,  _fuck_ , that feels real good.”

Bucky babbles about how  _good_  you feel. How wet and tight you are. How he loves how deep his cock is buried in your pussy. His words have your walls fluttering and he whimpers, voice echoing through the suite. A rock of your hips. It’s slow, long, drawing out every sensation. He’s so big and thick. The head of his cock nudging you just right. The slight tickle of hair against your clit. Your nails rake down his chest with every roll of your hips.

Bucky fights hard to keep his eyes open. Caught between your breasts threatening to spill from your bra and the sight of his cock disappearing as you ride him roughly. A most alluring look, as if he’s living out his wildest fantasies and you don’t think anyone has ever gazed at you so  _exquisitely_  before. It’s a shockwave of raw lust. Heat coils tight in your belly.

“Please let me come, ma’am,” he begs, voice so broken you can tell he’s a  _wreck_. “I gotta come.”

“Come for me, Barnes,” You purr, so close yourself. “Come on, handsome. I want to feel you come.”

Your command is his undoing. Bucky trembles and gasps, utterly  _loses_  himself as warmth floods you. He’s so  _overwhelmed_  with ecstasy, mouth open in a silent scream and skin glistening in a fine sheen of swear. You ride him harder, chasing your own release and it’s so hot, so maddening how close you teeter to the edge but, instinct kicks in at the sound of a  _click_.

Bucky gasps as you flatten yourself to his chest. The whizz of a bullet as it zips past and lodges itself in the wall. You roll off, gun drawn from your holster and fired with precision at the intruder. It hits him in the shoulder, and with a yelp, drops his gun with a loud clatter. You kick it away, throwing your elbow in the assassin’s face and he grunts. He stumbles back. Your foot swipes his legs out from under him. A resounding  _thud_  when he hits the floor. You launch yourself at him, thighs choking him out.

“Agent One?” Asks Bucky, watching on in abject horror, wrists still bound to the bed frame. “Ma’am?”

Reassurances. You’re a little breathless from exertion. Perhaps more annoyed that your evening was so rudely interrupted. At least you know you’ve rattled the right cage. Bucky’s mouth is agape as he watches you truss up the unconscious assassin and drag him out to the couch. He’s an utter ruin, Bucky. Adrenaline running high and coupling with the bliss he still basks in.

“Oh, God,” he bemoans, eyes swelling in size. “You just choked him with your thighs. After I came- oh, God.”

A rapid text to Steve. You cast your phone aside and turn your attention back to the handsome young man still very naked and tied up in your bed. A giggle, coy and sultry. You cup his jaw, smoothing your thumb over his cheek.

“Steve will be here in twenty six minutes,” You surmise. “I’m going to clean up. And then you’re going to make me come with your mouth.”

Bucky brightens at that. Always so keen to please. He wriggles his wrists.

“You might need to untie me for that.” He says cheekily.

“Oh, you sweet boy,” you laugh, dipping your face to kiss him. “I’m going to ride your face. Can you be a good boy and make me come with that pretty mouth of yours?”

**Author's Note:**

> [Come say hello on Tumblr](http://cametobuyplums.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [If you enjoy my writing please consider buying me a coffee](https://ko-fi.com/cametobuyplums)


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